Veiled Sovereignty
by pseudo-sociopath
Summary: With Skyrim marred by a civil war, and on the brink of destruction from a dragon invasion, it's a miracle if the Dragonborn will be able to save it at all. Will the interference of demanding and angry Daedra, a cult of necromancers plaguing the east, a powerful and deadly order of assassins, and two rival groups of wizards from Cyrodiil distract the Dragonborn from his duty?


The Thalmor Embassy was thrumming with energy, important dignitaries and the elite of Skyrim all milling about the open area of the building. Jarls, political figures, and foreign representatives talked about anything and everything in order to assure that the delicate spider web of connections did not come undone and that they would not lose a potential ally or create an enemy.

Off in the far corner, partially hidden by an ornately carved pillar, someone sighed.

'I don't belong here', the figure, a tall, heavily muscled Nord with close-cropped blonde hair, thought morosely.

And indeed the blonde didn't; while the other party guests where active and involved, with smiles on their faces that only a politician could have achieved, the blonde was sullen and isolated, not interacting at all with the other party goers, preferring instead to find company in the bottom of his goblet.

It looked as though he would stay there all day, or at least for the duration of the party, in an attempt to blend in with the tapestries behind him.

The Nord then was thoroughly startled when a figure leaned next to him, not at all perturbed by the aura practically pouring off of the uncomfortable warrior.

He was even more surprised in fact when the newcomer next to him struck up a conversation.

"Now what are you doing over here?" The aged Imperial asked, his gray eyebrows rising. "Most people would be out on the floor meeting new people, building connections." The old man was gazing at the Nord curiously, his brown eyes, slightly faded with age, sweeping up and down the heavily muscled form.

"I-I'm sorry," the Nord stammered, a nervous tone coloring his voice, "It's just that I'm not used to these kinds of gatherings." The Nord was blushing now, the red color odd on the blonde's face; after all not even the coldest storm could color a Nord's cheeks.

The older man looked shocked for a second.

"Oh is that so," he mumbled, a baffled expression causing his eyes to squint and making his laugh lines more pronounced. "Well then let me be your guide to this little gathering then, what do you say?" the man finished happily, his eyes lighting up and a grin curving his lips.

The Nord still looked shocked but nodded his head all the same.

"Excellent! Well then I guess I better fill you in on the other guests," he said, a lecturing tone taking over his voice. So there they stood, the old man pointing out other guests and giving a general description, and the muscled nord gazing thoughtfully at the subjects, his tension slowly melting away as he became used to the man's, now a mentor's, presence.

"So who are you then?" the Nord questioned once the two composed themselves after a particularly funny anecdote involving Maven Black-Briar and a rather clumsy serving girl. "What's your name and story?"

The imperial looked up at the Nord, a smile still on his lightly wrinkled face.

"Who, me?" the man asked his smile turning mischievous. "Well I'm just accompanying Elisif over there as her plus one. There's nothing really special about me."

For a second the Nord looked frustratedly at the old man and even looked as though he was going to question him further, before he sighed and pushed off the wall and towards the bar.

Making his way across the room was much easier for the Nord now that he had found his confidence due to the old man's help and funny tales.

When he reached the bar, the Nord leaned over to question the barman, a wood elf named Malborn, about the old imperial he had been talking to.

"That would be Regnum Krex," Malborn said while gazing at the elder across the room. "He's been at the last three parties that have happened since I started working this job, and he's always accompanied Elisif. He was even here when Torygg was still alive."

Elenwen, who had been walking nearby, stopped and turned towards Malborn. "What have I said about spreading rumors about the other guests, Malborn?" The high elf's voice was like ice, so very like the destruction magic her kind was known for.

"Sorry my lady", Malborn said, a nervous expression on his face. "It won't happen again"

"See that it doesn't," she said simply before going over to entertain another guest.

"Thank you for your help," the Nord said before beginning to return to the now known Regnum.

"Wait," Malborn said, stopping the warrior in his tracks. The man turned back to gaze curiously at the wood elf.

"There are only about two hours left in the party. If you're going to do something you need to do it fast." Malborn's words were fast and whispered but they were clearly heard by the Nord, who gave a curt nod. "Good, now here you go sir, I hope you enjoy the rest of the party." And just like that the innocent barman was back to handing the Nord a cup of wine and sending him on his way.

When the Nord returned to the other side of the room he turned to the old man. "So Regnum," he asked curiously, "what was it you said that you did?"

Regnum turned to the warrior, his brown eyes wide. "Now that's not fair," he pouted, lips turned into a frown, "using the barman to question into my personal life! How rude."

The Nord looked embarrassed for a second and it seemed as if he was about to start apologizing. A waved hand and a laugh from Regnum silenced him though.

"I'm just joking, good job finding out who I was," the imperial said with a proud look on his face. "Now, will you tell me who you are or do I have to assault the poor bosmer as well?"

With one hand rubbing the back of his head and the other clenched around the wine filled goblet, the Nord spoke sheepishly. "My name's Jorgan and I was just lucky enough to get an invitation to this party."

"That's okay," Regnum said with a pleased smile. "We all start somewhere and so long as we get to the top, who cares where we came from?"

"Yeah," Jorgan said with a pleased smile. Suddenly his expression turned serious and he looked at Regnum. "Excuse me but do you mind helping me with something?"

Regnum looked a Jorgan curiously a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Well that depends, what is it you need help with?"

"Would you be willing to help me create a distraction?" Jorgan asked his gaze flicking over the room nervously.

Regnum's face turned shocked, losing its playful edge instantly. "I'm sorry," he said while looking at Jorgan sadly, "but I'd rather not have a target painted on my back."

Regnum continued hastily, seeing the Nord's face fall. "Tell you what, though, why don't you take that drink you have and ask Razelan over there." He said pointing to a Redgaurd sitting on a bench on the side of the room close to the entrance. "If you give that man a drink, he'll do anything."

Nodding, his face determined, Jorgan walked over to the Redgaurd and gave him the goblet full of wine ready to enlist the help of the drunkard.

A few minutes later had Regnum gazing at the Nord, not even paying attention to the scene that the drunken Redgaurd was making.

'So that's the dragonborn,' he thought as Jorgan slipped into the kitchens with Malborn. 'He's not as impressive as I thought he would be.'


End file.
